


Mot Juste

by TheVulcanDilemma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (this is Dean after all), Affection, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Castiel doesn't understand dating, Endearment kink, Endearments, Fanart, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Insecurity, Intimacy, M/M, Masturbation, Moon- eyes, Perception Deflection?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sam's sort of a cock block, Top Castiel, Unapologetically Sappy, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, or maybe an insight blight?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVulcanDilemma/pseuds/TheVulcanDilemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel's new found relationship has the world's dudliest man-dude making some self-discoveries. Each more mortifying than the last. </p><p> </p><p>Basically some really cheesy porn, with some crappy fanart at the end for your viewing pleasure!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mot Juste

**Author's Note:**

> Endearment kink was not a joke, this is rife with silly pet-names, and just loads of other sugary-sweet words. I regret nothing.

He doesn’t know why he does it.  
  
Well, that’s not completely true. He knows _why_ with more clarity than he’s felt in a long time. It’s more that he doesn’t know why he chooses this particular moment to lean over and press his lips soundly to Castiel’s pale mouth, the angel’s lips having just begun to part in wonder. Not so much a kiss, as just touching his lips to Castiel’s for one perfect moment. When he leans back and sees that Castiel’s shy smile matches his own, he lets out a breath he feels he’s been holding his whole life.  
  
It wasn’t at all like Dean had pictured on those rare occasions when the loneliness crept in with the night. Sam, propped against the window, his sleeping form offering Dean little companionship. Just right there, the physical closeness and comfortable familiarity that used to supply him with a soothing sense of security now mocking him with the cruel juxtaposition of how distant they‘d really become. Staring aimlessly out the window, surrounded on all sides by nothing but the dark and a road that stretched endlessly ahead yet lead nowhere other than deeper into the blackness, Dean would feel justified allowing himself, for a few moments, to fantasize about what it might be like to grab a certain angel by his dirty trench coat, pull him close, and really plant a hard, sloppy kiss right on that little nerd. He’d think about what it might be like to push him up against the nearest wall, feel the man’s solidity against his whole body, and ruffle that pretty exterior even more. This guilty little pleasure never seemed quite right, though, and not for the heterosexual-panic reasons he’d sort of expected. Somehow, they never felt personal enough.  
  
Now though? Sitting in the front seat of his baby, his arms stretched out over the seat, watching the sun go down with his best friend beside him, and the last light of the day pleasantly warming the interior of the impala? For once, everything felt right. As he leaned over to kiss him again, there still weren’t fireworks like in the movies. There still wasn’t any hot-burning passion and frantic groping, or even nervous hands roaming curiously over clothed skin. There was only warm, dry lips pressing softly together.  
  
Dean thought it was probably the easiest, most natural thing he’d ever done, and without a doubt, the best kiss he’d ever had. He felt _open_. When he pulled back again, slowly glancing up from that soft mouth to meet wide, blue eyes, he knew privately, deeply, that if he could ever swing it, if he could ever manage to die the proper way and make it to the proper place, this memory would be absolutely invaluable.  
  
~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~  
  
A few weeks, and many kisses later (each one bringing some new enlightenment to Dean’s severely stunted emotional awareness) he got quite a shock to his self-perception when Castiel poofed in and with an awkwardly delivered “Hello, Beautiful,” tipped Dean back into a very theatrical kiss that had his heart fluttering.  
  
Did Castiel just-?  
  
“Uh, Cas, not that I’m complaining, but you been watching a lotta chick flicks or somethin’?”  
  
“I believe it is customary for new lovers to use terms of endearment such as this. And aesthetically, you are very pleasing, Darling.”  
  
Dean blushed and averted his gaze as he felt his heart give a sudden jump, and his jeans become a little tighter. Chuckling nervously as his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, he returned the man’s surprisingly exhilarating compliment by saying in voice that was only slightly choked, “Thanks, you’re not too hard on the eyes either, H-Honey.”  
  
Delivery having been extremely less cool than he’d intended and his blush returning full force as his cock gave a disobedient, ridiculous throb, he quickly averted his eyes again. When he dared to look back up, Castiel had his head tilted slightly to the side, fixing Dean with a curious, scrutinizing gaze.  
  
Luckily for Dean, Sam had chosen this moment to return to the hotel room, and he was spared the awkward endeavor of trying to come up with a half-decent explanation, because when he turned back to look warily at Castiel, the angel had poofed away again.  
  
~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~  
  
Lying on the scratchy hotel bed, magic fingers going (obviously), Dean let himself dwell on what had transpired that evening. Cracking his eyes open to spy on his brother, he could see him gathering his sparse shower items.  
  
“Uh, hey. Take your time.”  
  
“Wh- Ugh. Gross, Dean.”  
  
“Well then, next time maybe I don’t give you a heads up.”  
  
“Fine. But I better not come back out here to find you completely passed out, all _exposed_. Don‘t act like it hasn‘t happened.”  
  
“Whatever. Prude.”  
  
Sam pulled a face before walking into the dimly lit hotel bathroom and closing the door with exaggerated resoluteness.  
  
Dean smiled and relaxed back into the vibrating bed, letting his palm rub himself absently over his jeans. Aside from the sheer comedic value of alerting his brother to his lewd intentions, it also gave him the benefit of a leisurely jerk-off session rather than the hurried, perfunctory pace at which he usually had to rub one out in the shower.  
  
He’d intended to take full advantage, but when his mind went directly to that cheesy kiss and Castiel’s low voice rumbling “Beautiful,” in his ear, he had his jeans and boxers pushed down, and his hand on his cock in less time than he’d initially envisioned.  
  
He blushed and quickly turned his thoughts to more suitable material.  
  
He’d yet to actually see Castiel in the buff. A fact he found to be a grievous disservice to his dwindling spank bank. It was bad enough Castiel and his big, blue eyes, and his down-right indecent mouth had been progressively replacing his masturbatory thoughts of busty Asian beauties, (A fact that, if asked, Dean would vehemently claim was due to some kind of angel mind-fuckery) but having to picture all that pale, pretty skin with only his imagination to go by was just unforgivable.  
  
Hand setting a quick pace to start, his cock filling out and curving hotly over his belly, he imagined them standing in some alleyway, his hand reaching up and twining that cornflower-blue tie in his fist and pulling him in for a drawn-out kiss that leaves the angel looking at him dumbly, before he pushes Cas down onto his knees.  
  
He made a frustrated noise and rolled onto his stomach to reach over the side of the bed and search his duffle for some lotion.  
  
Squirting some on his palm, he grasped his cock again. Sliding up and down his swollen member at a slower pace, he thought about standing flush against the shorter man and stooping to rub his cheek over Castiel’s stubbled neck as he slipped his hands under the man‘s trench coat and pushed it off his shoulders.  
  
He pictured himself dropping little kisses down Castiel’s chest as he unbuttoned the man’s wrinkled white dress shirt, Cas’ hands cupping his face, his fingers combing though his hair. He reached up to parody his thoughts; fingers running through soft dirty-blond hair, blunt nail scraping lightly over his scalp.  
  
He gasp, and started making a little flourish with his wrist when he‘d reach the head of cock. Continuing his fantasy, he saw himself kneeling down to settle between Cas’ parted thighs and mouthing at the other man’s cock through his slacks, leaving dark, damp patches in his wake.  
  
His breathing had become labored, and he reminded himself he hadn‘t even got fantasy-Cas naked yet.  
  
He hadn’t really wanted to end this so soon, but apparently, he was more pent up than he thought if that was enough to get him panting.  
  
He lets his mouth fall open in a low groan as he jerks himself faster, other hand drifting down the planes of his body to cup his balls.  
  
Deciding he may as well go ahead and bring himself off, he skips the rest of the dream-foreplay and moves right to the dream-fucking. He squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter and sees his thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of Cas’ spine, his hands grasping his hips tightly as he plunges in and out of the man.  
  
His hand stills for a second and he opens his eyes. He feels oddly out of the moment now.  
  
Shaking his head, he closes his eyes and tries again: He’s making little nipping kisses up pale, parted thighs. For the first time his hand is wrapped around a hot, leaking erection that isn‘t his own. Maybe a light pink color to match the lips currently spilling appreciative noises.  
  
“Yeah. This is better,” he thinks, his hand resuming it’s previous vigor.  
  
In his mind, Dean is running his hands appreciatively over a stomach, softer than his own; leaning over to kiss and nip at a perked nipple and being rewarded with a long, deep  
  
“Yeees. That’s it, Sweetheart.”  
  
Suddenly he feels like he’s about to come.  
  
Wait. What?  
  
His eyes snap open and he makes an aborted effort to sit up, or stop for a second, or just clear his mind or something, but he’s so close right now and it‘s so good. He doesn’t want to stop. His eyes flutter closed again and it’s just entirely too easy, the image comes far too readily to mind; Cas draped over him, warm body a pleasant weight on his hips and stomach, looking at him with that look he sometimes gets.  
  
Devotion.  
  
Love.  
  
Dean moans outright and finds his hand wandering unwittingly down behind his balls, and pressing hesitantly against his hole. He whines low in his throat, the hand on his cock practically a blur now. Feeling he could come any second, he presses the pads of his fingers more firmly against his dry pucker. Head thrown back, and panting much harder than the exertion calls for, he’s about to try pressing inside slightly when a dull bang in the bathroom has his eyes flying open and his hand flinging out to grab the blanket.  
  
Blood rushing hotly to his face, he feels almost as embarrassed as if Sam had actually caught him. He covers himself with the blanket, noting, stupidly, the magic fingers have stopped at some point.  
  
He lay still; waiting to hear if Sam was coming out of the shower.  
  
Upon hearing the reassuring sound of the water still going, he turns over on his side and quickly finishes himself off.  
  
~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~  
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  
“Jesus! Cas-”  
  
Dean jumped at the angel’s voice, suddenly right beside him; almost jerking the book off his lap. Righting himself, he looked up from where he was reclined, back against the headboard of some hotel in Wolford, North Dakota, lifting an eyebrow when Castiel just stood there and then lifting both eyebrows when he just sat down next to him without a word.  
  
He hadn’t taken off his shoes, or even his coat, just sat directly next to Dean with his hands folded in his lap, and his legs straight out in front of him.  
  
“Dean.” The angel said in a voice as if he was expecting something.  
  
“Yes?” he responded, completely puzzled.  
  
“Sam will be out watching that unlucky woman’s house for hours. We are alone. We are on a bed. All the requirements have been met, Cupcake.”  
  
If Dean hadn’t already been sputtering at that ‘requirements met’ nonsense, ‘Cupcake’ certainly would have done it for him. Removing himself from the bed and throwing his hands up in exasperation, he replied to this odd list of facts with, “Cupcake? What? Requirements? What the hell, Cas? Are you saying you want to have sex?”  
  
Castiel just looked at him in confusion, his head tilting to the side.  
  
“Is it not expected for lovers to engage in sexual congress? I’ve acquainted myself with all the particulars of ‘love-making,’ and I assure you we’ve met all the normal romantic benchmarks; I consulted a cupid. Granted, cupids can be a little free-spirited and mischievous, but he swore he never jokes about love.”  
  
To this remarkable speech, Dean answered with only an incredulous look and increasingly tinting cheeks, so Castiel continued.  
  
“Perhaps it’s because we haven’t been on a date? If so, we will eat together three times in the evening and spend at least two hours of those nights doing things we wouldn’t normally want to do. I will display my ability to provide by buying you arbitrary tokens of affection, and drop subtle implications regarding my sexual prowess. Then, I believe, we may return home where I can make love to you.”  
  
At this, Dean found his voice.  
  
“What?! No. Why am I the girl?! No, Never mind. We’re not going on any date or whatever. What the hell are you talking about?”  
  
“Well, I did find it odd, considering you didn’t think it necessary for any of your previous sexual partners.”  
  
“Previous- Dude. No. Just stop. You- You’re not supposed to- and, anyway, I mean.” Sighing heavily, he sat back down on the bed, staring resolutely at the floor. With notable effort, he placed his hand on Castiel’s knee.  
  
“It’s different with you, man. You’re an angel for God’s sake. And a dude!” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “And, you’re . . special. I . . care . . about you.”  
  
Castiel twined his fingers with Dean’s.  
  
“You love me, Dean.” He corrected, proudly.  
  
Dean stiffened and made to pull away, but Castiel pulled him back against him and nuzzled his cheek.  
  
“And I love you, Dean.”  
  
Bringing his hands up to cradle the hunter’s head, Castiel gently tilted Dean’s face to capture his lips in a kiss, which he gladly returned, grateful they weren’t talking anymore. Slipping his hand down to Dean’s neck, the angel deepened the kiss, leaning more firmly into Dean, forcing the man stretch his arms back behind himself. Fingers resting over Dean’s pulse point, Castiel pulled back to murmur in a low rumble, “Your lips feel amazing, Kitten.”  
  
Dean’s pulse spiked, and he flushed hotly. He sat back up, pushing Castiel away slightly.  
  
Fixing him with the most convincing look he could muster, Dean said, “Dude, you gotta cool it with all the cornball dialogue. I feel like I’m in some soft-core porno or something.”  
  
For a second, he was sure he saw Castiel _smirk_ before replying, “But Dean, you like it when I say these things to you.”  
  
Now Dean did move to get away, standing up and trying to turn away, but Castiel had grabbed his hand.  
  
“I don’t know what in the blue hell gave you that idea, but-”  
  
“I can feel you Dean. I can see the blood thrumming through your body, hear your breathe spike. It makes me happy; to see the normal functions and processes of your body readjust to comply with my actions.” Dean’s face was flaming, but he laced their fingers together, and moved to stand stiffly between Castiel’s parted knees.  
  
He smiled up at him and brought their hands to his mouth to lay a soft kiss across Dean’s knuckles. “I like to see the physical declaration of our mutual sexual desires.”  
  
Suddenly Cas surged to the edge of the bed, his free hand grasping Dean’s ass to push the standing man’s hips against his chest. Angling his head up to look at Dean, his chin rubbing the hunter’s belly when he spoke, he said in an unfittingly conversational tone, “Sometimes, when thinking about you; about your mouth, about mapping out all your pretty freckles with my tongue, about how it will feel to be physically inside you, I just stare as my vessel’s blood rushes south and hardens my cock. It’s extraordinary really. Dean Winchester made this happen, made my body answer him, without even lifting a finger, like an act of God.”  
  
Dean groans, and fists his fingers in Castiel’s hair, pulling lightly.  
  
“I’ll tell you what’d be an act of God. You getting outta those fucking clothes already.” Detangling his hands from their current engagements, he pushes Castiel’s trench coat off his shoulders. “Haven’t had a damn decent jerk-off session in weeks thanks to this thing.”  
  
Roughly pulling Castiel’s coat down to his forearms, he pushed the angel back on the bed to grab the end of that trademark trench coat and pull it out from under him. Castiel seemed pleasantly surprised by the turn of events as Dean moved to straddle his hips, holding him down by his shoulders.  
  
“I’m gonna rock your virgin world, baby.” he said giving Castiel his cockiest smirk.  
  
Castiel just smiled serenely up at him, and Dean sort of lost his edge, pausing where he’d begun eagerly unbuttoning the man’s dress shirt.  
  
“This is the part where you blush and giggle or something.” Dean remarked nervously, despite the idea of Castiel _giggling_ sounding completely ridiculous.  
  
“That sounds very nice, Dean, but I believe I’ve become rather adept at fornication. I’ve viewed 207 hours and 36 minutes of adult films. I think I‘m more than capable of mastering one of mankind’s basic functions.”  
  
Dean couldn’t help bursting out with laughter at this serious declaration.  
  
“Oh yeah, Casanova? You gonna show me a good time?”  
  
Wiping his eyes, he reigned in his amusement and said teasingly “Riding a bull isn’t quite the same as watchin’ a rodeo there Phil Collen.”  
  
Castiel quirked a brow at him, “I don’t understand tha-”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Just relax and let me blow your mind, all right? Jesus, I can’t even remember the last time I popped someone’s cherry.”  
  
Laughter having loosened him back up and with his former confidence restored, Dean continued the long awaited disrobing of the celestial being. He leaned over Castiel’s body, preparing to latch his mouth instantly onto every inch of newly exposed skin, but found his mouth meeting dry cotton instead.  
  
“An undershirt? Are you serious? You don’t even get dirty!”  
  
“I merely adhere to the fashion of the era. Here, is this better?”  
  
Suddenly finding himself staring down at a completely naked angel, Dean exclaimed, “You really just magiced away your clothing. You have no respect for the art of seduction, man.”  
  
“I don’t esteem any societal convention that would keep our bodies from touching.” Dean thought he detected an edge of wryness when the angel added, “In fact, I’m considering giving up the nonsense, altogether.”  
  
Dean laughed softly, smiling against the angel‘s newly exposed chest. “The look on Sam’s face would be frickin’ priceless.”  
  
 Finally getting to realize his fantasies of a naked, aroused Castiel, he immediately set to work familiarizing himself with every part of that pale, perfect body. He’d worried meeting a flat chest and hard muscle, rather than the usual breasts and softness might freak him out, but he found as his hands rubbed adoringly up and down Castiel’s decidedly masculine sides, and his lips brushed over a perked, pink nipple he felt calmer and more turned on than he’d been in a long time. Maybe even more so than he’d felt with Lisa and he’d loved her. With Cas though, none of this felt temporary.  
  
His hands paused in their caress, and he lifted his head up to stare into space for a moment, like he was considering something.  
  
“Hey, magic mine off too.”  
  
Castiel looked up at him with wide-eyed adoration. Being unequipped as he was, he could never empathize with the human tendency to regard their bodies with shame (They were God’s _masterpiece_ , after all), he nevertheless understood the significance of allowing another to see you bare. He doubted Dean felt self-conscious about his body, but he also knew no one wore their clothing like armor more than his hunter did.  
  
Asking him to remove that armor made his heart jump with the hope he that he could empathize with what Dean was feeling right now: completely vulnerable yet overwhelmingly invincible. It was the first feeling Castiel had had when Dean uttered the abbreviation of his name; he a superior being, one of the greatest powers in the universe, an _angel of the lord_ , and this man calling him casually, familiarly, like it was nothing.  
  
He knew Dean wanted to take the lead here, but he couldn’t help himself. He sat up, bringing his knees to him, causing Dean to be cradled between his chest and his thighs, and kissed the hunter senseless.  
  
Dean made a surprised, muffled sound into the kiss when he felt his clothes vanish, and was suddenly able to feel Castiel’s hard cock pressed flush against his. He moaned when he felt Castiel’s hand wrap around them, and jerk softly, testing.  
  
“Hey, now.” Dean laughed out breathlessly, “I’m not about to let myself be shown up by a virgin.”  
  
Castiel smiled, “You seem oddly fascinated by my lack of previous sexual partners.”  
  
Dean returned his smile, “I might be.” His smile turned cocky as he pushed Castiel back down.  
  
Repositioning himself between Castiel‘s parted legs, the hunter looked up, licking his lips. “Now get ready for a Dean Winchester original.”  
  
With that, he engulfed the head of Castiel’s cock in the hot shelter of his mouth, sucking with all the gusto of a man who’d been long envisioning the act, but had as yet been unable to actually perform it.  
  
He felt the other man’s body spasm, and two strong hands fist desperately in his hair.  
  
“Oh, Dean. Deeaann, this is-” Whatever the angel was going to say was swallowed when Dean started bobbing his head, warm saliva escaping the corners of his mouth to pool against the fist stroking what he couldn’t fit in his mouth.  
  
Castiel was distracted to say the least, but he was determined to keep his wits about him, make this good for Dean too.  
  
“Dean, baby, you’re so good at this. Your- Your mouth is so sexy.”  
  
Dean’s pace stuttered, and he pulled back, ignoring Castiel’s whine of protest. The hunter’s hand finding his own cock, jerking awkwardly with the angle, he bit out, “Shit, Cas. Keep talking.”  
  
Castiel thought the command seemed unreasonably challenging when Dean got his mouth back on his cock, sucking in earnest, but he persevered.  
  
“Ahh, Sweetheart. You don’t know- know how ah-amazing you are at this. Like God fashioned your mouth to share this with me.”  
  
Dean whined around his cock, seeming to like the idea, so Castiel continued, “Som-Sometimes, I’m sure he did -Oh, Dean, don’t stop- s-sure he made you just for me. You were made for me, Beautiful.”  
  
Dean seemed encouraged to prove this to be true, moving his hand to the bed to give himself the leverage to swallow the other man deeper into his throat. The angel’s hips bucked involuntarily at this, and Dean pulled off, coughing.  
  
“Easy there, Tiger. This ain‘t ' _Deep Throat'_.”   
  
“Dean, please. Your mouth-”  
  
Humming in satisfaction at the plead, Dean returned to his task, and Castiel moaned in relief before continuing to sing the hunter’s praises.  
  
“You’re unique, Dean. Do you understand how special you are?” Dean hummed around him again, the vibrations making Castiel gasp.  
  
He’d relaxed his grip in the hunter’s hair to lovingly comb through sandy blonde locks, but tightened them again, pulling when Dean started swirling his tongue around the sensitive head of his cock.  
  
“I’ve watched mankind since the beginning, and you’re the first being I’ve ever desired to lay with.”  
  
Dean’s mouth halted, throat pulsing around Castiel’s cock, whining through his nose. The angel looked up just in time to see white, viscous strands stain the cheap hotel sheets, the hunter’s hand still jerking furiously.  
  
The sight was enough to push Castiel over the edge, throwing his head back he moaned loudly, his cock spilling into Dean’s mouth.  
  
When his mind was a little less foggy, he looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes. The hunter seemed a little surprised, but kept his gaze as he licked his lips and swallowed.  
  
“I feel like the men in the films usually lasted longer.”  
  
Dean laughed, out of breath, and snuggled into Castiel’s chest. “Yeah well, I’d say you did alright for your first time off the bench.”  
  
“We weren’t on a bench, Dean.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, and nipped at Castiel’s ear. “A little different from porn, huh?”  
  
“Yes. Much better than pornography. But the principles are still the same.”  
  
Dean snorted, “Still think so, cowboy.”  
  
“You don’t believe me.”  
  
“Course I do. The junkless wonder’s obviously a secret sex-god.”  
  
“You know I’m not junkless, or a God, Dean.” Castiel’s hands roved up Dean’s abdomen, pausing to frame his pecks. He smiled up at him with a defiant look before flipping them over suddenly, chuckling at the stunned look on his hunter’s face.  
  
“I’ll demonstrate the practical application now, since you don’t seem convinced, Darling.”  
  
Dean bit back the sarcastic comment that had been impatiently waiting on his tongue, in favor of latching his mouth to Castiel’s neck and sucking. Dean was quickly realizing he _really_ needed to get a handle on this preposterous new kink if he ever wanted to have any clout in this relationship again. One stupid pet-name and he was putty in the angel‘s hands, with his cock giving a valiant throb.  
  
“Get to it, then.”  
  
Castiel’s expression promised he had every intention of overturning Dean’s doubts. A taller order than even Dean, himself, was aware. See, Castiel had watched a _lot_ of gay porn, and aside from being sure a ‘golden shower’ turned out to be about fifty times less fun than the name implied and positive many of the acts he’d witnessed were downright deviant, (though he had found spanking surprisingly invigorating, he gets it now) he knew with equal certainty that Dean was, 100%, a bottom.  
  
He considered this quite fitting; angels were made to love, after all.  
  
Staying true to this determination, he pinned Dean’s hands to the bed and nipped at the other’s neck, sucking lasting impressions of his kisses into the human’s skin.  
  
The smile that had formed on Castiel’s face upon hearing Dean’s low groans and bitten off curses as he worked his way down his chest, dropped a little when the hunter shifted, then froze beneath him.  
  
“Wait a minute. You’re already hard again?”  
  
Leaning back up, his smile returned, a little smug this time, “I’m immortal and impervious to bullets. My refractory period is where you lose sanction?”  
  
“Your immortality doesn’t demean my manhood.’’ Dean grumbled.  
  
“I assure you, your manhood is perfectly adequate.”  
  
“Adequate?!” Dean shoved him playfully, “And this from the guy whose come I just swallowed. Last time I let your cock down my throat.”  
  
Castiel’s eyes darkened, and he tweaked Dean’s nipples teasingly as he growled, “I think not, Sugar. You can’t deny me that pleasure now. I‘ll just have to change your mind.”  
  
“Ohh, the big bad angel’s getting rough- !” The last part came out as an undignified squeak, as Castiel hoisted his lower body up, his ass resting against the angel’s chest and his legs splayed out in an awkward ‘V’ over his head. He gripped Castiel’s arms, trying to right himself.  
  
“Cas, What-”  
  
His nails sunk into the man’s forearm as Castiel’s tongue delved into his exposed pucker without preamble.  
  
He collapsed back on the bed as the angel licked him open, his hands scrambling for purchase, finally twisting into his own hair. To say he hadn’t been expecting this would be one hell of an understatement.  
  
Castiel’s hands gripped Dean’s hips hard enough to bruise as the hunter writhed on the bed, only able to make long, guttural moans as his ‘perfectly adequate’ cock got rock-hard again in record time.  
  
 The other man’s stubble rubbed against his sensitive skin like sandpaper, but he found himself reveling in the constant reminder of masculinity, and what that masculinity promised when Castiel decided he was finished with this fantastic treatment.  
  
“Oh, God. Cas. If this is what you can do just from _watching_ , we’re practicing this until you’re freaking _perfect_.”  
  
Castiel growled and licked deeper into him, apparently taking the insinuation that he wasn’t already perfect, as a challenge.  
  
The angel continued to lavish Dean’s hole until it was wet and glistening with his saliva, and the hunter’s whole body felt boneless other than the demanding throb between his legs.  
  
Dean managed a drawn-out whine when Castiel finally pulled back and let the other man’s body slide down to rest against his kneeling thighs. He turned to lay gentle kisses on the inside of Dean’s knee.  
  
“I’m going to finger you open, Dean, then I’m going to fuck you.”  
  
Dean shuttered and blushed at the curse and the avowal.  
  
“Well don’t fucking waste time talking about it,” he muttered, looking away.  
  
Castiel found himself smiling at the unusual display of shyness in the man who was practically the definition of bravado. It was endearing, but deciding it wouldn’t do at all, he pulled Dean up into his lap again, to kiss him until all that pesky shyness was gone again.  
  
“I thought someone promised they were gonna fuck me. Better magic up some lube, cause I don‘t carry that shit around with me.”  
  
“Not a problem,” he snapped his fingers, purely for the effect, and the requested lube materialized on the bed next to them.  
  
“Lube you got ready, but when I ask for pie you can’t deliver.”  
  
Snapping his fingers again, a pie appeared on the bedside table.  
  
“For later,” Castiel affirmed, repositioning them so that his back was resting against the headboard, and Dean could kneel over his stomach.  
  
Grabbing Dean’s neglected cock, he stroked it back to full hardness, before slicking his fingers and pressing one digit slowly into the hunter’s body. Knowing the man’s macho side might balk at being on the receiving end, Castiel stared up at Dean’s face, wanting to see the visceral reaction of his body, before he had time to school his features.  
  
He regarded every minute element of Dean’s expression, committing them all to memory; he noted the way his brow furrowed at first and his body tensed; he noted the exact moment when the hunter tipped his head back, relaxing; he noted the vibration of the air when Dean sighed, and the tenor of his bitten-off moan.  
  
For his part, Dean couldn‘t believe how good this felt, even when the angel added a second finger and was scissoring him open. Before he met Cas he‘d never spared a thought for this sort of thing (or at least had never allowed himself to), he‘d never even paid this part of his body any mind before the other night.  
  
The shame he’d felt the other night flooded back with the memory and made his body stiffen, but Castiel seemed to be anticipating this, and observed in an awed whisper, “I’m going to make you forget everything Dean. Everything, but me, and this,” he thrust his fingers sharply into Dean’s prostate, forcing out a wreaked shout, “and how much I love you.”  
  
From there Dean thought he was probably an absolute mess as Cas fingered him open methodically, with measured strokes until he was riding his fingers, aching for more.  
  
He’d just gathered his wits enough to decide that this position was entirely too intimate, (there was no way to muffle his voice with his hands busy on the angel’s cock, and no where to even hide his face with how he was poised over Castiel) when other man suddenly withdrew his fingers and pushed him on his back with enough force to make him bounce.  
  
He swallowed nervously and sucked his lower lip between his teeth as Castiel positioned himself at his entrance. This was really happening, he thought wildly, his boyfriend? Mate? Lover, was about to fuck him.  
  
 _Finally._  
  
Clenching the sheets in his fist and panting harshly, he could feel Castiel’s slick cock inching slowly into him. It was an odd feeling and definitely burned more than the fingers, but when Castiel was finally seated with his hips flush against him, all the way inside, he realized he didn’t care.  
  
He glanced up to see his lover’s eyes closed, mouth parted, an expression of bliss replacing the usually rigid lines of his body, and Dean knew, with an annoying mixture of embarrassment and contentment, that this was the best part.  
  
He wanted to chastise himself for literally preferring the ‘love’ over the ‘making,’ but then Cas was sliding back out, and plunging back in again, distracting him with a jolt of pleasure that seemed tied directly to his balls, and he did forget to how to even _feel_ anything other than incredible.  
  
Castiel leaned over him, pinning him down by the wrists, his pace deliberate, waiting.  
  
“Harder, Cas. God, fuck me harder. Please. I need you.”  
  
 Both men could hardly believe the words spilling out of Dean’s mouth, and Cas couldn’t believe how insanely hot and wild he suddenly felt at the sobbed out plead. He did fuck into him harder, without even making a conscious decision to do it.  
  
It somehow takes Dean by surprise that he feels just _this_ close to coming, already.  
  
He’s torn between wanting this to last forever, and wanting to just turn himself completely over to the pleasure, even if it means this mind-blowing experience will end. His mind supplies immediately that there will be many repeat performances.  
  
Looking up at Castiel, _his_ angel, he sees that look again; unadulterated devotion and adoration, and that’s it. He’s done. He’s coming harder than he can ever remember, with no more substantial contact to his dick, than Castiel’s belly rubbing against it.  
  
Feeling Dean’s body spasm around him, seeing the man’s body relax, flushed with pleasure and satisfaction; knowing that _he’s_ the one who was finally able to strip away the tension, the worry, the constant scowl, and replace it with this look of quiet joy, far better suited to such a deserving creature, looses his own orgasm from his body as Dean’s name looses itself from his mouth in a whispered mantra.  
  
~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~  
  
When sufficient time had passed to allow Dean to grimace at the sticky mess on their bodies and clean them up, as well as shake off some of the more vulnerable feelings of romance with his usual delicacy of off-colored jokes and obnoxious boasting, the pair found themselves seated comfortably on Sam’s bed to enjoy some well-earned pie.  
  
Well, Dean enjoyed the pie, and Castiel enjoyed watching him enjoy it.  
  
“It pains me to say this, it really does,” he paused and swallowed, biting the fork still in his mouth, before mumbling “but, I do like the pet names.”  
  
He pauses again to shovel more pie into his mouth, hoping to obscure his next words, “I like the way you say my name better, though.”  
  
Cas smiles at him before leaning into a cherry flavored kiss.

~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~ ~i~

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! 
> 
> If you want to repost the art or whatever that's fine, I don't even mind if you lose the annoying url, but in any case, please do link back to the source. Thanks!


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